


Swelling Storm

by orphan_account



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU after Heart of Darkness, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Character, Bad Parenting, Except for Fred, F/F, F/M, Grundy get's whats coming to her, Homeless Jughead, M/M, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, mentions of statutory rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 01:43:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10063373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The only road out of Riverdale that actually led anywhere, conveniently went right past the Twilight drive in.  I wouldn’t say that it was fate, my running into Ms. Grundy as she was leaving town.  But itwasa hell of a coincidence.Jughead runs into Ms. Grundy as she is fleeing Riverdale and is determined that she not go free after hurting Archie.  Also possibly Jason.  Definitely her ex-husband that turned up dead back in Minneapolis.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, this hasn't been beta read. Any and all mistakes are my fault. I started writing this after watching The Last Picture Show but the show will probably be over before I have more than two chapters published. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this story!

**Prologue**

_The only road out of Riverdale that actually led anywhere, conveniently went right past the Twilight drive in. I wouldn’t say that it was fate, my running into Ms. Grundy as she was leaving town. But it **was** a hell of a coincidence._

When he had gone to sleep the night before, listening to the film running through the projector, Jughead had worried about what he was going to do with his cot and camp stove. He couldn’t just leave them for Fred Andrews and his demo crew to find.

But Jughead’s alarm clock had been accompanied by the roar of motorcycles and he knew he didn’t need to worry after all. Even as his feet carried him away from the drive in he could hear the Serpents beginning to loot the place for anything they could sell.

His dad would make sure that the stuff he couldn’t carry with him was taken care of. Jughead turned towards Riverdale. Many times, many nights, he had considered going the other direction. Walking along until he could hitch a ride to a different place. Somewhere new. 

But he never had. For all it’s issues, Riverdale was his home. It was where the largest number of people that he still cared for lived. So, even if they no longer cared for him, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Jughead paused at the crosswalk on the edge of town; watching as the blue vintage beetle slowed to a stop at the red light. Ms. Grundy was wearing a plastic pair of heart shaped sunglasses that made her look like a college student. The little beetle was stuffed, as if she had shoved all of her worldly possessions into the backseat of her car. Jughead would be one to know, as he was carrying all of _his_ worldly possessions on his back.

She wasn’t paying attention to him, her eyes seemed to be trained on the light. Jughead watched as her fingers tapped an irritated, staccato rhythm on the steering wheel. Before he’d really thought it through, Jughead was stepping off the curb and knocking on the glass of her window. He didn’t know if she knew that Archie had told him anything but it was a risk he’d have to take. She looked like she was leaving town. It was too early, he hadn’t finished compiling his evidence yet.

Ms. Grundy’s eyes were surprised as she rolled the window down.

“Mr. Jones, what are you doing way out here this early?”

“They’re tearing it down today,” Jughead said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder towards the Twilight. “I wanted to say goodbye one last time before it was gone. What about you?” He asked, glancing into the back of her car. “Are you saying goodbye to Riverdale?”

“I’m afraid so,” Ms. Grundy replied. Her eyes took on a suspicious hue. So she didn’t know for sure. But she wondered. “Family emergency. I’ll try to make it back if I can.”

Jughead nodded, “Well I’m sure Archie would appreciate it.” Something malicious curled with pleasure in the pit of his stomach as she stiffened and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. It was difficult to keep the satisfaction off of his face and out of his voice as he continued. “His music is really progressing in leaps and bounds with you helping him.”

“Yes,” Ms. Grundy said with a relieved smile. “He’s a really talented kid.”

“Yeah,” Jughead agreed with a smile. “He’s a great kid.”

The light turned green and Ms. Grundy nodded towards it.

“Well Mr. Jones, I’ve got to be going and so should you. Don’t be late for school.”

Jughead nodded, smiling as he hopped back up onto the curb and watched her pull away. He didn’t wave and neither did she. He spared a glance towards her license plate but it was the same that it had always been. She hadn’t changed it. Yet.

He frowned, scuffing a boot on the pavement absentmindedly. He wasn’t not ready to make this call. But Ms. Grundy leaving town was forcing his hand. It would have to be now or never. 

Jughead jogged across the street towards one of Riverdale’s last working payphones. Ignoring the graffitied glass he dropped his backpack on the ground beside the booth and pulled open the sliding door. The floor inside was littered with trash, he could see condoms and used needles hidden amongst the leaves and fast food wrappers. Jughead grimaced but stepped inside anyway. 

There was a ziplock baggie of coins in his pocket. He’d gone wading in the wishing fountain at the Riverdale park a few nights before when he’d realized that he would eventually have to make this call. He had collected just enough coins for one call so he fed the whole bag into the slot, keeping the baggie between his fingerprints and the coins. Using the baggie again he picked up the phone and then dialed with his shirt covering his finger. The phone rang a few times, before someone picked up on the other end.

_“Minneapolis police department, how may I direct your call?”_

Jughead swallowed. He was doing this for Archie, he told himself, even if Archie hated him for it.

Betty might have stopped investigating Ms. Grundy after Archie had shared her tragic backstory. But Jughead was at the point in his life where he felt immune to tragic backstories. He had kept digging. Even if her story had been true, it didn’t excuse her from hurting Archie. Even if Archie couldn’t realize that he was being hurt.

It hadn’t taken much more digging to discover that, while there was a kernel of truth to her story, she hadn’t been completely honest.

“Yeah, I have some information on a missing suspect for one of your unsolved homicides, Jennifer Gibson.”

_“Sir, can you tell me your name and where you’re calling from?”_

“I’m calling from Riverdale, Massachusetts and I’d rather not identify myself. For the last year and a half Jennifer Gibson has been living in Riverdale under the alias Geraldine Grundy. She had a job teaching Music at Riverdale High.”

_“Sir, if you’ll stay on the line I’m going to connect you to the lead detective for this case.”_

‘Yeah,’ Jughead thought. ‘And they’ll stall me while you try to trace the call.’

He stayed on the line. Even if he didn’t want them to know who he was, he did want them to be able to confirm that he was calling from Riverdale. There were no cameras in the area that they could pull footage from to identify him. So long as he kept his fingerprints off of the phone booth, he should be fine. 

But even if he did mess up, he had worked just down the road at the Twilight. It wasn’t implausible that he would have used the phone in the past.

_“This is Detective Martin, what information do you have about Jennifer Gibson?”_

“I’ve already told some to your dispatch,” Jughead said with a sigh. “She can catch you up on what you missed. Jennifer Gibson is leaving Riverdale right now, heading north in a vintage VW Beetle with the license plate number 2IU 369.”

_“Son, what is your name?”_

Jughead ignored the question. He only had a limited amount of time for this call, he didn’t want to spend it avoiding questions about himself.

“In the year that she’d been teaching at Riverdale High, there was a student murdered. The police here haven’t seen it yet, but there is some evidence that she and the student were having sex at some point before he died.”

The only sound Jughead heard for a long moment was the clacking of a keyboard. Then the detective replied.

_“Would that student be Jason Blossom? Went missing on July 4th, was murdered around July 11th. The Riverdale police don’t have any suspects listed.”_

“Like I said, the police haven’t seen all of the evidence. But Jason, he and his friends kept score of all the people they had sex with. The original book doesn’t exist anymore because it was an aberration but there are pictures. And she’s in there, cougar plus five points.”

Jughead tried to keep the anger and dismay from his voice. He hadn’t stopped Betty from destroying the book but he had made her wait until he’d been able to document most of it for evidence. He didn’t think that she’d understood why. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to look at any of the names other than Polly’s.

If she had looked at the pages, before Polly’s, she would have seen G. Grundy listed next to Jason’s name. Several lines of G. Grundy. Then after that one line of F Jones III: parenthesis, ace kid, question mark, parenthesis. Plus two points. Also written by Jason.

_“Son, it would be a lot easier to corroborate your story if you would tell us your name.”_

“I’ve already found your suspect, how much more of _your_ work do you want _me_ to do?” Jughead said. “She’s leaving Riverdale, I don’t know why, but she’s on I-95 heading North.”

With that Jughead hung up the phone. Leaving the phone booth, he grabbed his backpack and swung it over his shoulder. He had done all that he could do for now. It was up to the police to catch Jennifer Gibson and discover the truth. Jughead didn’t know if she had really killed Jason, there was some strong evidence against her but that didn’t automatically make her guilty. 

She might even be innocent of the murder of her ex-husband. Although, after looking at all the evidence the Minneapolis police had against her, Jughead wouldn’t bet on it.

But she _was_ guilty of hurting Archie. She might never be convicted for it, Jughead didn’t want to hurt Archie anymore by exposing their _relationship_ , but he wanted her to face the consequences of her actions. 

Jughead took one last look down the road Jennifer Gibson had disappeared. He bit the corner of his lip absentmindedly and his eyes drifted in the direction of the Twilight. 

According to the Minneapolis police reports Jennifer Gibson had supposedly left town the day _before_ her husband had been murdered. She hadn’t been a suspect at first. Initially when they couldn’t find her, the police had thought she might have been another victim. That was until they had found ATM footage of her outside of her ex-husband’s apartment building the night he had died.

Then they had taken a harder look at the reports of domestic violence and hospital visits.

She hadn’t been lying when she had told Archie that her husband had put her in the hospital in a drunken rage. But she had neglected to share that before that she had done nearly as much damage to him while she was completely sober. _He_ had been the one to file for divorce. As soon as the divorce papers were filed, Jennifer Gibson had left town. The next day her ex-husband was dead.

Jughead licked his lips and tasted blood. He turned and started walking towards Riverdale High. Sticking close to Archie during school wouldn’t be too difficult. It would be harder for him to wheedle his way into staying at the Andrews house overnight. But if he couldn’t manage, his old treehouse was still up in the yard next door. 

It didn’t hurt that either of those options were better than sleeping on a park bench.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's super unusual for me to get another chapter out this fast.

**Chapter One**

Jughead watched the Andrew’s house from his old tree house. Archie had ditched him almost as soon as school was over. Jughead had almost panicked, imagining the worst. But it hadn’t taken Jughead long to track Archie down. He’d felt a little creepy following his former best friend around town, presumably to places that held some significance to him. Probably significant to his relationship with Gibson.

But it was for Archie’s own good, Jughead told himself. What if Jennifer Gibson came back into town? What if she came after Archie?

So Jughead sat, keeping watch, in an old, rickety tree house; stationed between the Andrews and Cooper homes. 

Jughead’s childhood home was on the other side of the Andrews house. They hadn’t had any tree’s appropriate for tree houses in their yard, so the three families had worked out a deal. The Jones’ could build the tree house into the large oak growing on the Andrew’s and Cooper’s property line so long as their children were allowed to play in the treehouse as well.

It was the deal that had allowed their friendship to flourish. Jughead had thought that the friendship they had forged in this treehouse would have lasted forever. But life goes on. People change. Lives change.

Jughead’s mother had died when he was midway through the eighth grade and everything had changed, for the worse. His Aunt had asked to adopt Jellybean. She hadn't asked for him. 

His father had joined the Southside Serpents and his mild drinking problem had spiraled into full on alcoholism. Then, he had started using drugs. Soon after that he started stealing from work to pay for his drug habit.

By the time Fred Andrews fired his dad, Jughead had already distanced himself from his friends. He hadn't wanted them to know. 

Hadn’t wanted them to see what his home life had become. It was easier than he’d thought it would be he’d been sorry to discover. They were freshman in high school at that point and their lives were already leading them in separate directions.

When they’d been evicted from their home just before winter break, Jughead hadn’t even told Archie and Betty.

He had just followed his dad into the Serpents den, assuming that his dad would keep him safe. Jughead’s jaw clenched. But he’d been wrong and he’d left that house before he’d even had time to unpack his things.

Jughead frowned as he heard something at the base of the tree. Glancing towards the entrance to the tree house, he watched as Betty’s blonde ponytail came into view. He’d been so intent on watching Archie’s window that he hadn’t even noticed her coming out of her house and crossing the yard.

“Jughead,” she asked as soon as she’d crawled inside. “What are you doing out here? It’s the middle of the night!”

“I could ask you the same question,” he replied in the same incredulous tone. “Shouldn’t you be tucked up in bed already?”

Betty gave him _the look_. Jughead merely raised his eyebrows, Polly had always done it better. Archie, of course, would have spilled everything right then and there. In the ten years that Betty had been perfecting _the look_ he’d never been able to resist it. Betty smiled, but the expression didn’t reach her eyes.

“Alright,” she admitted. “I’ve not been sleeping well. So, when I looked out the window and saw you out here, I came to see what you were doing.”

Frowning Jughead cast an accusatory glance towards his laptop. He’d only opened it briefly, to write down a line of text before he forgot it. But Betty wouldn’t have been able to see him without the dim glow of the screen.

“So that’s what I’m here.,” she said, scooting farther into the tree house. Jughead moved over to give her more room, pushing his laptop and bag farther into a corner. “Wow, I could’ve sworn this thing was bigger than this. What are _you_ doing out here Juggie?”

He looked back to Archie’s window. No changed there. Betty followed his gaze.

“You’re watching Archie? Why?”

“I just want to be sure that he’s not going to do something stupid,” Jughead said with a shrug. It wasn’t a complete lie.

“You think he’d sneak out his window to go after Ms. Grundy?” Betty asked, eyes wide.

“I’ve no idea what he might do,” Jughead replied. “I think it’s probably unlikely. But I figured I’d watch for a little while just for my own peace of mind.”

Out of the corner of his eye Jughead could see Betty nod. Her head turned, glancing around as the place where they’d spent so much of their childhood. Her saw her reach out and brush her fingers against the section of wall where they’d painted their handprints. He glanced over, expecting her to be caressing Archie’s old print. Surprisingly, she was tracing her fingers over Polly’s instead.

“How is Polly doing?” He asked, trying to steer the conversation away from himself.

“I don’t know,” Betty said. “I’ve not seen her since this summer. Mom and Dad won’t tell me anything other than that she’s getting the help that she needs.” She sighed. “I don’t think Archie is going to run away after Ms. Grundy. He told me he was breaking things off with her the day my Mom found the gun.”

Jughead’s eyes widen with surprise as he turned to stare at Betty.

“Your mom broke into Ms. Grundy’s car?”

“No,” Betty says, then she bit her lip. As if she was hesitating. Jughead met her eyes, staring down her hesitation until she broke. 

“I thought that she might hurt Archie okay!” 

Jughead wanted to drop his head into his hands. He wanted to roll around the tree house, laughing hysterically.

“You _stole_ Ms. Grundy’s gun?”

He wanted to ask if she wore gloves. If she’d taken precautions to keep her finger prints off of the weapon. But he kept the questions to himself. Betty could not know anything about Ms. Grundy (or Jennifer Gibson, whoever she is), getting arrested before Archie. Jughead wouldn’t let Archie believe that Betty had been the one to call the cops. Their relationship was strained enough as it was.

“Like I said, I thought that she might use it to hurt Archie. At the time, I thought she might have hurt Jason! I didn’t know that she would have a good reason to have it.” Betty sighed, slumping against the wall. “I was going to give it back last weekend. But Mom found it hidden in my drawer. Then she read my diary and found out about everything.”

Jughead winced. If Alice Cooper knew, then it was a surprise that she hadn’t printed the story yet. He would’ve expected her to tell the whole town just so she could look down her nose at Archie and Fred.

“So I guess that’s why she left town? Because your mom found out?”

“Oh no,” Betty said. Her voice dripping contempt. “My Mom didn’t just run her out of town. She fetched Mr. Andrews away from the drive in and dragged all of us to the school so we could see Archie and Ms. Grundy together for ourselves.”

He winced again. No wonder Archie hadn’t seemed to be himself today. (Or yesterday. He’s not really sure what time it is.) He could imagine how that scene had gone and it wasn’t pretty. Looking at Betty he knew that it wasn’t a good time to ask her for a detailed play by play for his novel. She looked nearly wretched, even if she hadn’t joined him at whatever o’clock in the morning, it was obvious that she’d been losing sleep over this.

He wished he could tell her to stop worrying. Tell her everything that he’d found about Jennifer Gibson. But she could have found that information too if she hadn’t stopped looking. He didn’t want to make her feel any worse.

“So where’s the gun now?” He asked with a feigned nonchalance.

“I have no idea,” Betty said shrugging. “Mom threatened to tell everyone about Archie and Ms. Grundy so I threatened to tell everyone that I’d broken into Ms. Grundy’s car and stolen her gun. For all I know, she threw it into Sweetwater River to get rid of the evidence.”

Jughead wanted to bang his head against the tree the tree house was built on. So even if the police investigated and came to the conclusion that Jennifer Gibson had killed Jason Blossom they might never find the murder weapon. Swell.

The sound of sniffles drew his eyes back to Betty. He couldn’t really tell in the dark, but he thought she might be crying. With a sigh he scooted closer until their sides were pressed together. She shuddered once and then pressed her wet face into his shoulder.

Jughead tried not to melt at the contact. Betty needed him to support her right now. She didn’t need him to go all gooey because her crying on him was the first physical human contact he’d had in almost a year.

“He was so distant today Juggie! I’ve never wanted to hurt him but I did just by writing that _stupid_ diary! Mom said so many awful things to him and then _he_ said terrible things about himself!” Betty sobbed and grabbed at Jughead’s shirt, fisting her hands into the worn fabric. “He has such a low opinion of himself Juggie! I hate that woman! I _hate_ her! Because she probably knew and took advantage of it!”

Jughead wrapped an arm around Betty’s back, feeling his own indignation burning at the thought of what Alice Cooper might have said about Archie. About what he’d _known_ that Jennifer Gibson had done. But he banked the fires. He would have time later to be angry on Archie’s behalf.

“It wasn’t your fault Betty. Even if you hadn’t written about it or stolen the gun, someone would have found out eventually. I mean, they weren’t really being all that careful about it. I caught them in the music room at school.”

“Yeah,” Betty said with a half hysterical giggle. “That’s where we caught ‘em too.”

“See! Not at all your fault.” Then he paused. “But I’d suggest keeping a more secure diary in the future. Maybe a secure website or something. If your mom read it once, she’ll probably try to read it again.”

“I thought about that,” Betty admitted. “But if I don’t write down something then she’s going to know that I’m going out of my way to hide it from her and that will make her look that much harder.”

She turned her head, resting her cheek on his shoulder and Jughead swallowed. He’d felt cold ever since he’d moved into his makeshift home at the Twilight. The booth hadn’t had any reliable heat and the tree house was drafty. But with Betty sitting so close to him, he finally felt warm again.

“I wonder if she did this to Polly,” Betty wondered out loud. “Polly was really into journaling and scrapbooking. I wonder if she poked her nose into all of that.”

“Probably,” Jughead said. “Especially if she was against her relationship with Jason.”

Betty laughed and even Jughead knew that that had been a bit of an understatement. The explosion that had been Alice Cooper learning her daughter was dating the Blossom boy had been very public.

Jughead relaxed, dropping his head to lean against Betty’s. He’d missed this, he realized. He’d had good reasons to distance himself from his friends last year but he had missed them dearly. It should have been obvious to him when he’d run into Archie at Pop’s over the summer and he’d planned an impromptu road trip out of the blue.

“You should probably head back inside,” he said a short time later. He was careful not to let any regret slip into his voice. 

“Yeah,” Betty agreed as she sat up and stretched. “You should probably head home too. It’s so late that it’s early. Archie won’t be going anywhere until school starts.”

“You’re probably right,” Jughead said with a nod. But he didn’t move from his seat. Betty shook her head at him as she crawled backwards out of the tree house.

“You need to get some sleep too Juggie.” He watched as she felt for the ladder then began to climb down. “You won’t be able to string together two words for the Blue and Gold without sleep.”

“That’s what editing is for,” he said with a smile as her pony tail disappeared from view.

He leaned forward, watching through the window as she reached the ground and then ran across the yard back to her house. She paused at the door and turned to wave at him. He waved back even though she probably couldn’t see it. When she’d finally disappeared inside, Jughead turned his attention back to Archie’s window.

Sighing heavily, he propped his chin on his hands. This could turn into a cluster fuck of massive proportions he realized. He had no way of alerting any police that came to investigate that Alice Cooper had been the last person in possession of the gun that might have killed Jason Blossom.

If Alice and Betty had gotten their fingerprints all over the weapon that pressed a whole other issue. He finally gave in and fell back onto the creaky wooden floor. He stuffed his jacket into his mouth so that his jackal cackles didn’t wake up everyone in the neighborhood. 

It was supposed to have been simple. The state police or whoever were supposed to arrest Gibson and find the gun and the fake ID in her car. They were supposed to run ballistics of the weapon against Jason’s autopsy report. Now he had no idea what they would do. Would they even take such a vague hint from an anonymous tip seriously? Jughead rolled onto his back spreading his arms across the length of the tree house.

“Fuck.”

He sat up, his eyes automatically searching for Archie’s window. Still closed. No obvious signs that a formerly clutzy boy had tried to climb out of it in the last five minutes. Jughead sighed and his eyes drifted sorrowfully towards his laptop. He needed to converse the power until he could get to school and charge it. Also, he didn’t want anyone looking out a window and seeing the light.

His stomach rumbled and he sighed again. No more food until lunch at school. When he’d first set out on his own he had been worried that eventually his lunch account was going to run out of money. But when he’d asked to check the balances he’d learned that his dad was still sending checks to the school. He’d been irritated for a little while. But the promise of at least one actual meal a day had eventually won him over.

Pop’s dropping a plate with a burger and fries and a dish rag off at his table one night had secured him a second set of meals, so long as he was okay with washing dishes. Jughead was never really sure what Pop’s knew. He just knew that Pop’s had heard and had kept more secrets than anyone else in Riverdale. He didn’t mind Pop’s knowing if he could exchange a bit of labor for good food.

A little before five am, Fred Andrews bedroom light flickered on and Jughead took that as his cue to leave. He put his laptop back into this backpack and crawled out of the tree house, dragging it behind him. As soon as he had his feet were on the ladder he swung the bag onto his back. When his feet hit the ground he slunk across the Andrews yard watching for anything he might step on that would alert Vegas. But he made it across with no issues and his feet hit the pavement of the sidewalk. Without a glance over his shoulder, Jughead started jogging towards Riverdale High.

The school was abandoned. There were no cars in the parking lot, no students on the campus. As Jughead jogged closer the building emerged from its shroud of cold fog.

The football team wouldn’t arrive for morning practice until six and the earliest of teachers didn’t usually arrive until at least seven. Jughead usually let himself into the building through the kitchen entrance; feeling grateful not for the first time that Riverdale seemed to exist halfway in the past. No doors were secured with more than a lock. No hallways were monitored with cameras. Nothing about Riverdale High seemed to be aware that it was existing in the twenty first century.

The lock at the kitchen entrance was easy to pick. Jughead couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about breaking and entering anymore. To keep his problems to himself, he had to keep up appearances at school and that meant regular showers and clean clothes. 

He ran through the hallways to the locker room just because he could. He started one of the showers to let it warm up as much as it would then he checked his watch. Almost five thirty. He had plenty of time to shower and get out of there before the football team showed up. 

Jughead stripped, throwing all of his dirty clothes except his jeans into a black garbage bag that he stuffed into his backpack to wash later. He grabbed his bag of travel sized shampoo and body wash and stepped back onto the tiles. Bracing himself, he stepped into the stream of semi-warm water. He shivered, all of the warmth that he’d absorbed from Betty evaporated. Jughead washed as quickly as possible and was done in under five minutes. He stood, shivering after he had turned the water off. Something he really needed to acquire, he told himself, was a towel.

When he was dry enough, he rummaged around in his pack for clean underwear and a shirt. He pulled on the underwear he found and the pants he’d been wearing for the last few days. A clean shirt was more elusive. Finally he gave up and pulled his jacket on over his bare shoulders. 

He needed to expand his wardrobe a bit any way.

More cautiously now, Jughead slunk out of the locker room. It would be just his luck if a teacher or someone on the football team showed up early for once. He crept through the hallways, peering around corners, until he reached the safety of the drama department.

Riverdale hadn’t had a drama teacher in almost three years and they hadn’t put a lot of effort into finding a new one. Every so often, a student produced show would be put on in the auditorium but for the most part the drama department was kept locked up.

Jughead picked the lock to the costume storage even quicker than he had the kitchen door. These locks were older and easier to bypass. He let himself in and closed the door behind him. He dropped his bag and his jacket on the floor by the door and set about finding himself a shirt to wear.

He was grateful for whoever it had been in Riverdale’s distant past that decided they should award extra credit to students who would donate some of their old, lightly used clothes to the costuming department. He slipped through the clothing racks, looking for something in a slightly older style in hopes that whoever had donated it would have already graduated.

He found himself a fairly plain t-shirt that didn’t smell too musty and pulled it on over his shoulders. Satisfied he went back and pulled his jacket back on. A quick glance around the room gave him an idea. He had worried yesterday over where to store his backpack but this seemed a better place than under the bleachers. Dragging his bag into a corner, Jughead sat on the floor and quickly began pulling out his school things.

Soon enough he was slipping out of the room and pulling the locked door shut behind him. At a glance no one would be able to tell that he was homeless. He looked just like any other teenage high school outcast. He left the way he had come in, wandering in the direction of Pop’s. Maybe he could persuade the man to give him a burger a little in advance.

 

Archie rolled over in bed when the scent of pancakes drifted up from the kitchen. He could hear Vegas’ claws clicking on the hardwood floor as the dog paced outside his closed door. Archie didn’t usually shut his dog out of his room at night. Only on night’s when he’d been planning on sneaking out of the house. 

He sat up and rubbed a hand over his face. Football practice started at six this morning. He had set his alarm to go off at five thirty. After a few minutes of staring at the clock, watching the digital numbers change, the alarm finally went off.

Reaching over, he silenced the sound; then with a sigh, Archie lay back on the bed.

Geraldine, Ms. Grundy, was really gone. He’d jogged by her house yesterday after school, just to be sure. He hadn’t knocked on the door but there had been no lights on in the windows. Her car hadn’t been parked out front.

He swallowed down the hurt. She’d had to leave, he told himself. Alice Cooper would have seen her in jail just to spite _him_.

And, he told himself, he’d already ended it! The bow had been a goodbye present! Their relationship had already been over!

Then why did it hurt so much? Just knowing that she was really gone was like a knife in his chest. He’d lain awake almost all night, wondering where she was now or where she was going. She wouldn’t go back to Minneapolis, he thought. Not when there was even the slimmest of chances that she might run into her ex-husband. 

Maybe she’d settle in Boston or New York. Some of the best music schools were probably in New York. Juilliard was in New York. He would be older by then. No one would be able to tell him otherwise if they wanted to pick up their relationship.

Archie heard his dad’s footsteps on the stairs and Vegas began to whine. He sat up again and pulled a t-shirt on over his head. 

“I’m up,” he called to his dad. Vegas began to bark happily and Archie yelled to be heard. “I’ll be down in just a minute!”

“Take your time,” Fred called from the hallway. Then, through the door, Archie heard. “Come on Vegas, breakfast time.”

Archie found a pair of shorts and pulled quickly pulled them on. He grabbed his duffle bag of football gear and followed his dad and dog down the stairs. Vegas was happily devouring his kibble from his bowl when Archie entered the kitchen. He dropped his duffel on the floor and sat at the table as his dad passed him a plate of pancakes.

He dug in and Fred watched him eat, picking at his own breakfast. Archie kept his eyes on his plate, not wanting to look up. Not wanting to see his dad’s face. The silence was heavy, broken only by Vegas’ slurping and the clink of forks on plates.

“We should probably get you a therapist,” Fred finally said awkwardly.

“I don’t need a therapist,” Archie said. “She didn’t hurt me or force me to do anything I didn’t want to do! I came on to her! I started everything!”

Sighing, Fred sat down his fork.

“That’s not what is important here Archie,” rubbing a hand over his face Fred tapped his fingers on the table. “She was an adult. It was her responsibility to tell you no. She didn’t and that’s on her.”

“You’re just like Betty and Jughead! She loved me, why does everyone think that’s wrong?”

Fred pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned. How many days had it been since he and Archie had talked in this very room about his argument with Jughead? Over a girl indeed.

“Why don’t we try thinking about this another way,” he said finally. “What if your friend Veronica was in love with…let’s say, Mr. Weatherbee.”

“Dad,” Archie interrupted. “Mr. Weatherbee is married and he’s ancient. Veronica would never go for him.”

“Alright,” Fred replied. “How about me then. If Veronica or Betty came up to me and told me that they loved me it would be _my_ responsibility to turn them down. My responsibility to _not_ sleep with them. Because I would be taking advantage of them. That it would be wrong it I didn’t.”

“But that’s different,” Archie insisted. “They’re girls!”

“It’s not different,” Fred insisted, shaking his head. “Sadly it’s more common, but the situations are the same. Someone in a position of power abused someone that they have power over.”

“But she didn’t have power over me until I asked for the independent study lessons.”

“She was a teacher at your school! That puts her in a position of power. You trusted her originally because she was a teacher.”

Archie glared at his remaining pancakes. None of that was right but he didn’t want to argue with his dad anymore. He felt bad enough as it was. He shoveled what was left on his plate into his mouth and washed it all down with a glass of water. He avoided meeting his dad’s eyes.

“We can talk about it later,” Fred finally said with a sigh.

Relieved, Archie nodded even though he had no intention of doing so. He heard his dad sigh and stand up to put his plate in the sink.

“I’ll drive you to school for practice on my way to work.”

Archie looked up.

“You’re demolishing the drive in today?”

Fred snorted.

“There’s not a lot there to demolish. Just the projector booth and the concession stand and they’ve pretty much been looted clean.” Fred sighed. “Jughead left us a note.”

“Yeah,” Archie replied. “That place was important to him.”

“Yeah,” Fred said sadly. “I know that it was. Let’s go Vegas.”

He left the room and Vegas followed close after him. Archie heard the back door open and close. He sighed and rested his head on the counter top.

The drive in. He hadn’t even thought to go and see Jughead’s last movie. Jughead hadn’t seemed to be mad at him yesterday but he was a master of angry silences. Archie hadn’t really paid much attention to his friend yesterday. It was possible that Jughead had been pissed all day.

He frowned as he realized that this was the second time that he’d bailed out on something Jughead had asked him to do. Then he realized that Betty hadn’t been able to make it to the showing either. Archie sighed. He would have to find some time to apologize to his friend today. Before Jughead had time to let the resentment fester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [tumblr ](http://babblingbedlamite.tumblr.com/)if you'd like to come bug me.


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